


Forgotten Queen

by GrandR



Category: Cinderella - All Media Types, Les Misérables - All Media Types, Lunar Chronicles - Marissa Meyer
Genre: Alternate Universe - Cinderella, Alternate Universe - Future, Assistant!Joly, Bodyguard!Bahorel, Cross Over, Cyborg!Courfeyrac, Doctor!Combeferre, Emperor!Feuilly, Evil Montparnasse, Fem!Montparnasse - Freeform, Les Mis - Freeform, Les Miserables - Freeform, Lunar Chronicles - Freeform, LunarQueen!Montparnasse, Prince!Enjolras, fem!Grantaire - Freeform, stepmother!Fantine
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-27
Updated: 2014-12-27
Packaged: 2018-03-03 21:56:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2889335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrandR/pseuds/GrandR
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Humans and androids crowd the raucous streets of NewParis. A deadly plague ravages the population. From space, a ruthless lunar people watch, waiting to make their move. No one knows earth's fate hinges on one girl....<br/>Sixteen-year-oldGrantaire, a gifted Mechanic, is a cyborg. She's a second class citizen with a mysterious past and is reviled by her step-mother. But when her life becomes intertwined with the handsome Prince Enjolras, she suddenly finds herself at the centre of an intergalactic struggle, and a forbidden attraction. Caught between duty and freedom, loyalty and betrayal, she must uncover secrets about her past in order to protect her worlds future. Because there is something unusual about Grantaire. Something that others would kill for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forgotten Queen

The Screw through Grantaires ankle had rusted, the engraved cross marks worn to a mangled circle. Her knuckles ached from forcing the screwdriver int the joint as she struggled to loosen the screw one gritting twist after another. By the time it was extracted far enough for her to wrench free with her prosthetic steel hand, the hairline threads had been stripped clean.

Tossing the screwdriver onto the table, Grantaire gripped her heel and yanked the foot from its socket. A spark singed her fingertips and she jerked away, leaving the foot to dangle from a tangle of red and yellow wires. She slumped back with a relieved groan. A sense of release hovered at the end of those wires-Freedom. Having loathed the too-small foot for four years, she swore to never put the piece of junk back on again. She just hoped Courfeyrac would be back soon with its replacement.

Grantaire was the only full-servise mechanic at New Paris' weekly market. Without a sign her booth hinted her trade only by the shelves of stock android parts that crowded the walls. It was squeezed into a shady cove between a used net screen dealer and a silk merchant, both of whom frequently complained about the tangy smell of metal and grease that came from Grantaires booth, even though it was usually discussed by the aroma of honey buns from the bakery across the square. Grantaire knew they really jut didn't like being next to her.

A stained tablecloth divided Grantaire from browsers as they shuffled past. The square was filled with shoppers and hawkers, children and noise. The bellows of men as the bargained with robotic shopkeepers, trying to talk the computers down from their desired profit margins. The hum of ID scanners and monotone voice receipts as money changed accounts. The net screen that covered every building and filled the air with chatter of advertisement, news reports and gossip.

Grantaire's auditory interface dulled the noise to static humming, but today one melody lingered above the rest that she couldn't drown out. A ring of children were standing just outside her booth, trilling-"Ashes, Ashes, We All Fall Down!"-and then laughing hysterically as they collapsed to the pavement.

A smile tugged at Grantaires lips. Not much at the nursery rhyme, a fantom song about pestilence and death that had regained popularity in the past decade. The song itself made her squeamish. But she did love the glares form passersby as the giggling children fell over in their paths. The inconvenience of having to swarm around the writhing bodies stirred grumbles from the shoppers, and Grantaire adored the children for it.

"Bossuet! Bossuet!" 

Grantaires amusement wilted. She spotted Musichetta, the baker, pushing through the crowed in her flour-coated apron.

"Bossuet, come here! I told you not to play so close to-"

Musichetta met Grantires gaze, knotted her lips, then grabbed her son by the arm and spun away. The boy whined, dragging his feet as Musichettaorder him to stay closer to their booth. Grantaire wrinkled her nose at the bakers retreating back. The remaining children fled into the crowed, taking their bright laughter with them.

"it's not like wires are contagious," Grantaire muttered to her empty booth.

With a spine popping stretch, she pulled her dirty fingers through her hair, combing it up into a messy tail, then grabbed her blackened work gloves. she covered her steel hand first, and though her right palm begin to sweat immediately inside the thick material, she felt more comfortable with the gloves on, hiding the plating of her left hand. She stretched her fingers wide, working out the cramp that had formed at the fleshy base of her thumb from clenching the screwdriver, and squinted again into the city square. She spotted plenty of stocky white androids in the din, but non of them were Courfeyrac.

Sighing, Grantaire bent over the toolbox beneath the worktable. After digging through the jumbled mess of screwdrivers and wrenches, she emerged with the fuse puller that had been buried at the bottom. One by one, she disconnected the wires that still linked her foot and kale, each spurting a tiny spark. She couldn't feel them though the gloves, but her retina display helpfully informed her with blinking red text that she was losing connection to the limb. 

With a yank of the last wire, her foot clattered to the concrete. The difference was instant. For once in her life, she felt...weightless. 

 tbc

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!  
> So i just finished reading the Lunar Chronicles AMAZING and i was inspired to write this :)  
> I hope you like it, you can find me on Tumblr here:  
> https://www.tumblr.com/blog/americanblogger456


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